


Knots

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Community: sanctuary_bingo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen watches curiously, occasionally reaching out to brush a hand against the knot when he reaches a stopping point in a particular series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knots

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of rope bondage. Some angst. General season 3 and 4 references, spoilers for End of Nights. For sanctuary bingo (Will Zimmerman, black, Europe).

He's winding the scarf around his hand in the absent minded gesture he's picked up since their arrival. Two twists around his hand and then he pulls the sheer material free, winding it between his fingers, twisting it to form perfect knots.

She shifts beside him on the bed, and sighs as she stirs. He makes another pass with the scarf and then lays it flat across his lap before glancing over at her. She's not quite awake as she blinks at him slowly, a lazy smile playing across her lips.

"I thought you were the one who was supposed to be sleeping." She murmurs, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips.

"This place gives me the creeps." He's honest because there's no point in lying, even if she did seem to have an odd fascination with the place.

"It's quiet here." There's more to it than that, some happy memory she's not sharing yet. He'd seen it in her eyes as she had driven them from the small airstrip into town the night before.

It's too much like Carentan, he wants to say, although that's not exactly fair. The town is small yes, but it's bustling and modern, more of a tourist trap than a French farm village even though he knows he won't have to leave the room to find the world's greatest assortment of pastries. "Too much space." He grumbles as she reaches a hand over to brush the side of his leg.

"What was that you were doing before?"

He holds up the corner of the black fabric for her to see. "I started unpacking until I realized you weren't going to be up any time soon. You're horribly distracting."

She chuckles, nails catching in the seam running down the side of his sweatpants. "Is that your way of saying you like to watch me sleep?"

"You already know that." He teases as she hums. "It's nice to hear you say it."

"Well then," he leans over to brush her cheek with a kiss. "You're even more beautiful when you sleep. If such a thing is possible. I'm not sure it is, but go with me."

"Now you're flattering me."

"Me? Never." He insists, straightening. "I wouldn't dare inflate that ego of yours. We'd need another bag to bring along its wardrobe."

"If you're suggesting I overpacked-"

"You always overpack. You wouldn't be you if you didn't. There's no way you could look like you've stepped out of Vogue magazine 24/7 if you didn't."

"I do not-"

"Look absolutely stunning even when you're half awake and pouting."

"Someone's cheeky this morning."

"Would that be you?" He smiles as she laughs.

"The scarf." She motions when the room's fallen silent and he realizes he's back to playing with it, winding it absently around his wrist.

"I found it in your suitcase." He says unnecessarily.

She shifts, propping herself up on an elbow so she can reach over and lay her hand beside his, running the tips of her fingers over the material. "I haven't worn this one in years. I suppose I packed it for nostalgia’s sake."

"The Zen world tour."

She nods. "I shouldn't have stayed as long as I did, but this place was exactly what I needed at the time, or rather it was all wrong in that perfect sense of the word."

"Bad memories, personal demons, and PTSD, been there, done that." Will keeps his voice light but he knows they've both had their fair share of places like that. Places they don't belong in and should have never found. "Did you buy it when you got here or was it one of those globe trotting souvenirs you still insist on collecting?"

"I bought it from a merchant who had recently been to China. I can't remember quite where I was at the time. It's not of much importance now anyway." She tugs at the corner of the scarf, unwinding it.

"My turn." He sighs, recognizing the sign as what it was, an indication that she was done discussing the matter for the time being. "They're knots." He states the obvious as he slips the scarf from her hold and begins twisting it in his grasp. One knot after another appears and disappears as he works. Most of them appear to be the same as the knot before, but there's a real rhythm, a purpose to the way he creates them. There's something bigger at play than what the small scarf can indicate.

Helen watches curiously, occasionally reaching out to brush a hand against the knot when he reaches a stopping point in a particular series. He doesn't stop her from examining them more closely, but she refrains, permitting him to work as freely as her curiosity will allow.

He's silent and intent as his fingers work. There's no conscious effort that she can detect, he's working from muscle memory and hours, if not years of practice.

"They're quite beautiful." She offers when he seems to have finished. His hands stilled in his lap, the scarf still knotted, resting in one palm.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize them."

She frowns, suddenly realizing that he's right; she doesn't recognize them. They look vaguely familiar but they're not the military or climbing knots she's used to, nor the agriculturally or nautically based knots with which she's acquainted. "May I buy a vowel?"

"You may," his amused grin dissipates the tension that had begun to creep over him. "They're ancient and not based in a western tradition although that does exist."

"Eastern knots, that could be any number of things although I'd wager ornamental and Asian not European. But what's the intent?"

"I'm not telling."

"Give me a moment." She mock frowns at him as she scoots into a seated position beside him. "I haven't had my morning cup of tea yet."

He smoothes the final knot out of the scarf as she thinks, letting her take hold of the crinkled material before she speaks. "They're simple knots, so not purely ornamental, but they have no purpose with which I'm familiar."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you? Well then, that changes things doesn't it?" She holds the scarf taunt between her two hands and then lets it drop before picking it up again to attempt an imitation of one of the knots he had tried. It's not a bad attempt, in fact, it's close enough that he reaches over and corrects her, guiding her fingers through the proper motions.

She hums to herself, turn the knot over in front of herself before untying it and, repeating his earlier gesture, winding the scarf around her palm.

She tips her head, watching him through a fuzzy halo of soft curls. She takes in the way his eyes are locked on the movement of her hand, the scarf, the way his mouth falls open slightly as he breathes, intent and careful, the way his eyes begin to darken marginally.

"Bondage." She says simply.

Her voice seems to startle him out of some sort of revere and she gives him a moment to refocus before she continues. "Japanese I'd wager. Kinbaku. Although when or where you picked it up I haven't a clue."

Will laughs softly to himself. There were a lot of things she still didn't know about his life, even from the time after he had come to the Sanctuary. It's part of what makes this part of their relationship work. He's as much of a mystery as she is. He's her perpetual curiosity.

"It was after-" he stops for a moment to reach over and still her hands. "It was after Clara. After that mess with the Cabal."

It all seems so long ago now, so long before everything that's happened recently that it seems odd talking about it, almost as if he were talking about someone else, another lifetime. The pain's more real for her though, it always will be, he knows that so he's careful. "You had me back and forth to Tokyo so often after that, every other day, every other week, my head spun. I'd forget what language I was supposed to be trying to speak, which food I could order without totally grossing myself out. They needed all the help they could get but they still insisted I take the nights and evenings off. They insisted it was the least they could do to repay me, but I think you might have had something to do with that."

Magnus chuckles softly. The only confirmation he'll ever get. She had been lonely, horribly isolated and closed off from the world. He had spent many of his nights talking with her, mostly about work, but about other things as well, things she wouldn't talk about when she risked a surprise visit to her office, to her room. They talked about Ashley, about childhood, about loss. Sometimes when he needed to the most they talked about Clara. They talked about Clara and it had ached something awful in his chest, burning.

The nights when he was alone were the worst. Those nights had been so lonely, so dark. "I needed something to do with my time. I didn't know anyone in Tokyo at the time and the whole thing was kind of messing with my head. I signed up for an art history class aimed at Westerners but it was too much like listening to you lecture me on the finer points of your antique collection. I wanted something different."

He'd wanted something more. Something with real human contact. Something without the emotional connection to home, to the pain and grief, the loss he suffocated in every day. He had wanted to feel flesh, real warm human skin under his hands without the demands, without the explanations, that required. "I can't remember how I found the class. I'm not sure I even realized at first it was a class on bondage. I guess it wouldn't have mattered I've always been interested in the more unconventional arts."

"You learned from the masters." Magnus finds a bit of humor in this somewhere.

"We met in this tiny little studio off some back alley downtown. It wasn't the most reputable place, but they knew what they were doing. I still stop there every once in awhile to say hi."

"I'm surprised they're not hounding you constantly to stay on with them. I'd assume you were a quick study."

He glances over at her, rolling his eyes. "You know how I am with knots. I'm all thumbs at the start."

Magnus laughs remembering the first morning she had attempted to teach him the basic knots: whipping, bowline, trucker's hitch. She had spent the first hour being surprised he had managed to tie his shoes that morning. "I had wondered briefly where your sudden proficiency had come from."

"It's not quite the same tying knots to pitch a tent or to save yourself from falling to your death when climbing. That’s a lot less graceful, more practical." Will notes dryly.

"Perhaps it's best you get some practice then."

"If you tell me you packed eight meter lengths of jute rope in the bottom of your bag somewhere I give up and I'm going home."

"Don't be ridiculous Will. I'm sure Marie has something suitable downstairs. Her family's always been fond of collecting things. It's the farmer genetics she'll tell you if you ask. Don't ask if you want to be here when I get out of the shower. I will start without you." Magnus smirks with a wink, stretching before standing. "Now off you go. It's not polite to keep a girl waiting."


End file.
